Chapter Text
His hearts were racing, and his lungs were burning as if actually on fire. His entire body begged to stop and rest, but the circumstances of this excessive ‘workout’ were anything but favorable. His surroundings consisted of entire miles of tunnels, a network of passages meant to connect the dome cities together, with no place to hide, as well as leading to the much less known exits into the surface. Those were accessible only to the members of the Octo Corps. He was heading for one of those exits specifically.
There was a search party in here. He could hear their quick footsteps, echoing throughout the tunnel. And if he could hear them, they could definitely hear him. The acoustics was not working in his favor. All he could do was keep running and hope there was an exit nearby.
There! A crossing! Quickly, he made a turn and disappeared behind the corner. For a short while, he just stood there in the shadow, listening for the incoming footsteps. Not a long time later, he saw flashlight beams moving on the floor and on the walls. They were getting closer. He couldn’t allow himself to rest any longer than just a few seconds. Before the flashlights reached his position, he moved deeper into the tunnel.
As he was making his way through the darkness, still hearing the soldiers scramble around behind him, he noticed something… quite unusual. Over there, on the wall, there was a sign – scrawled in a hurry, by hand, as opposed to the rest of the tunnel iconography. It wasn’t supposed to be here. Curious, he moved a finger across the paint. It had been a while since it was made, but it was definitely recent.
Two crossed arrows pointed upwards… He recognized it. And then below, there was another arrow, this time pointing along the tunnel.
…A way out?
Suddenly, an inkblot flew right next to him and hit the wall. A distant flashlight illuminated the tunnel.
“Halt!”
The fugitive only allowed himself a single glance at the pursuer: all he saw through the blinding light was a silhouette of an octoling, but he was certain they were aiming at him. Immediately after, he resumed his escape.
Was this hallucinations from fatigue, or was the tunnel getting tighter? Could that mean he was closer to the exit? He hoped it was the latter.
In the distance, he saw a glimpse of a grate. With newfound strength, he forced himself to speed up – and in time, too, as the pursuers apparently had had enough of running and opened fire. After all, it was far easier to wound one beyond movement and then drag them back to the domes.
He’d never expected himself to ever grow so bold.
“Someone close the damn grate!” someone shouted behind him.
He jumped and transformed mid-air. His humanoid shape gave way for the smaller, squishier octo form. Just as a stray inkblot shot off the lock on the lid of the exit, he barely managed squeezed through the grate. He felt the cold metal brush against the very tips of his tentacles as the lid slammed shut behind him. He wasted no time and squirmed through the tight pipes towards… well, whatever awaited him on the other side.
At some point, as the adrenaline slowly left his body, he felt immensely drowsy. Without any more stimuli to keep him going, he lost consciousness amidst this cold, but eerily safe darkness.
The ride was long and uneventful, and really Cody had slept through most of it so far. The gentle rocking of the train car could make anyone doze off, especially him; thank you (not), alarm clock, for waking him up at like 6 AM... As he looked through the window, he was pleasantly surprised by the change of environment. The train had just stopped at some small train station near Mount Nantai, leaving the cityscape of Inkopolis long behind. Some passengers were leaving while some entered the cars and took their seats. One of those new folks was a red-headed inkling girl carrying a large weapon case and… was that a hermit crab on her shoulder? She noticed his gaze, smiled, and gave him a little nod.
“Hey, ‘scuse us!” said the crab, waving its pincers to grab his attention. “Is this seat taken?”
“Huh?” Cody looked at the seat right in front of him, where he had put his luggage. “Oh! Yeah, yeah, gimme a moment!” Immediately, he stood up and grabbed both his suitcase and the weapon case.
“Thanks, bud.”
The girl sat down and put the case down on the floor and slid it under the seat. Even with her being careful with it, it still let out a dull thud. Just what kind of weapon did she use, a splatling? She pulled out a pair of headphones and blasted some bass-heavy music through them.
There was also another new passenger that grabbed Cody’s attention, although they seemed far less friendly looking than the crab girl in front of him. They were clad in a dark jacket at least a size too big, eyes under the hood, and they both looked and acted like they were having a really bad day – and it was just past 10 o’clock. As quickly as they could, they zipped past Cody’s compartment and out of anybody’s view.
“Someone’s had a rough day, huh,” commented the crab.
Cody immediately felt kind of sorry for them. A stranger or not, they clearly weren’t okay. Something between a backpacker who had too rough a… last couple of days… and a straight-up homeless person. Or maybe just a runaway from home, still trying to process their new situation. Probably. Maybe.
He might try and check up on them later. If he were to follow them now, he’d probably end up a creep in their eyes. Or something.
The idyllic green landscape of Mount Nantai soon gave way to a number of valleys and lakes. A sight just as picturesque, unless you knew the region’s history, in which case it became more… sobering, one might say. After all, without prior knowledge, who would ever consider those pretty meadows and reservoirs were once a battlefield from an apocalyptic war a century ago?
Then, further north, there were those curly rock formations. The Octo Canyon. That place was seldom visited by anyone, if ever. Haunted, they called it. And the overall dour atmosphere around it surely supported that idea.
After that, he kind of just dozed off in the back of the train. He’d been running and hiding so long, his body just kept demanding more rest. Only now did he feel safe enough to just pass out right then and there. It must have been an interesting sight for the other passengers, but he was beyond caring at this point. All he wanted was to sleep.
Thankfully, the ride went without any more breaks; as far as he was aware, there were few, if any, places in this region where it would even have to stop to begin with. He woke up maybe an hour or two later to the sun shining straight into his face. It was painful, but honestly kind of pleasant, especially the warmth.
He scrambled out of his nook in the corner of the last train car, away from the prying eyes, and looked around. There was a door labeled as ‘toilet’, if his Inklish was to be trusted. He could use some refreshment. And he could finally wash off all the grime from his face.
Locking himself in, he did what he had to do, and went on to the sink. Splashing cold water onto his face, he looked at his reflection in the mirror. A face of an octoling defector, a traitor. A nasty scar around the eye; how he got it would haunt him in his dreams even months after the incident.
Sort of refreshed, the octoling put the hood of his jacket back on and went out. He then walked out on the platform in the very rear. The warm, dry wind swatted him on the face and immediately pulled the hood back down. He didn’t mind, honestly; it wasn’t like there was anyone here to stare at him. He could finally try to relax and take in the view for the first time since his escape…
The area the train was riding through was a desert: a complete wasteland full of yellow sand, old structures poking out of the ground every now and then, and a long strip of asphalt almost parallel to the railway. There was someone on this road, sitting in a motorbike and seemingly chasing the train. The octoling couldn’t see the rider’s features, obscured by the helmet, but he did manage to spot tentacles flapping on the wind from underneath. Suction cups on the outside… Another octoling, so far away from the Valley and the Canyon?
“Attention, passengers,” sounded the speakers in the car, “In about fifteen minutes, we will be approaching the next station: Splatsville Square. Please ensure none of your belongings are left on the train; in case your luggage gets lost, please inform the station’s lost-and-found office immediately.”
Splatsville Square. That was his stop. Curious, he cautiously leaned over the railing and looked towards the head of the train. On the horizon, he could already see it: a vast concrete jungle in the middle of the desert. The so-called City of Chaos. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t anxious. It was far too late for turning back, though, and honestly, it couldn’t possibly be worse than the domes. He took the gamble, and he was going to make the most of it.